Notes: Written for the Klaine Advent Drabble prompts 'understand/solstice'.
"I don't understand solstice celebrations," Kurt says, wrapping his arms around his middle, shivering in the twilight chill.
"What's to understand? It's like Christmas. But instead of celebrating the birth of a baby, we're celebrating the rebirth of the Sun." Blaine smiles and waves at a couple walking by. He's made it a point to acknowledge everyone that passes, a habit Kurt wishes he'd put a cork in. Kurt doesn't quite have Blaine's confidence in these particular situations.
The less people who see him at this thing, the better.
"I read the pamphlet they gave us when we got here, so I get that," Kurt says. "It's just … I'm not a huge fan of rituals in general. I know this is a pagan, New Age-y, Glory to the Goddess sort of thing, but it still feels a lot like going to church."
"How?"
"There's an altar …" Kurt gestures with his fingers to a long table set with flowers, pine needles, smoking sage, and large plates of fruit they were told they weren't allowed to eat "… candles, people chanting in tongues …" A breeze swirls by. Kurt shakes so violently, his back teeth clack "… only we're freezing our asses off in the middle of Farmer Hogget's field!"
"Well, we're here to support Santana and Brittany," Blaine says, trying to put a different spin on it. "It's their first wedding anniversary, and this is what they chose. They came with us on that dinner cruise for our first anniversary, and you know how sick Brittany gets on boats."
"They invited twenty people to this …" Kurt tuts "… and we're the only ones that showed up."
"Hmm. What does that tell you?"
"That we're stupider than twenty other people?"
"No!" Blaine exclaims. "It means that we're really awesome friends!"
"I guess that could be true," Kurt says, rubbing his arms, furiously trying to warm up.
"Look …" Blaine wraps his arms around his husband from behind in an effort to keep him warm "… I know we're out in the middle of nowhere, and you're way out of your comfort zone, but it's a beautiful night. The sky is clear, the stars are out. You have to admit, it's romantic."
"I'll admit it when I can feel my sinuses again."
"Isn't there anything about this that you like?"
Kurt sighs and looks around, searching for a positive amidst a sea of things that make him want to jump in their car and drive to the nearest hotel. "I like the music."
"Good!" Blaine gives Kurt an encouraging squeeze. "Anything else?"
Kurt glances down, his eyes stopping on a string of gardenias hanging from his neck. It matches a flower crown perched atop his head and is so incredibly fragrant, it colors every breath he takes. "These floral garland are very in. I think we featured them in Vogue this spring."
"There you go!"
"And the food's been … decent. The honey mead was very tasty."
"See? It's not all bad."
"True." Kurt nods. "It's not all bad. But answer me this?"
"Hmm?"
"Why are we all naked?"
A throng of dancing women swarms their way, each in various stages of nude – some wearing an abundance of floral garlands, some wearing just one, some in grass skirts, some with intricately applied body paint, and some with nothing at all. As the only men participating in this ceremony, Kurt and Blaine were offered their choice of garland, as well as a loin cloth. But the loin cloths don't do much with regards to actual coverage.
For once, Kurt has to thank Mother Nature for shrinkage.
Santana and Brittany waltz by, holding one another so closely, Blaine can't tell where one woman starts and the other ends. Brittany blows them kisses. Santana wolf whistles. Blaine shrugs.
"Lesbian aesthetic?"